


Loose tongues

by katiebuttercup



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Drunk!England, F/M, Fluff, UST, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/pseuds/katiebuttercup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England is drunk and America is having a bad night</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loose tongues

Disclaimer: characters are not mine 

"Okay we're here," America announces as soon as the keypad acknowledges the key card and the door swings open. 

England doesn't answer simply totters slightly unsteadily--partly due to the alcohol and partly because she is holding her left shoe in her hand and the discrepancy between her actual height and the height garnered through the high heel she is still wearing is quite stark. 

America walks to the bed, picking up the pyjamas left on the duvet and handing them to the older nation. 

England looks at them like she's never seen them before. "Oh roses. My favourite. " America hasn't really had the chance to deal one on one with drunk England but he finds her almost unbearably cute. In England's world everything is new and shiny, it's taken them over forty minutes to get to England's hotel room from the bar simply because England had wanted to examine every mundane thing she passed and exclaim over its brilliance. 

America rocks back on his heels as England closes the door to the bathroom to have some privacy to get changed. He searches the room for some way to distract himself from the fact that barely a Handful of footsteps away England was changing out of a painfully skin tight dress and into jammies. 

His eyes fell onto the bed, and he quickly jerked his eyes away. 

Friendship. 

A clatter in the bathroom brings america's thoughts back from the brink and he hurries to the door of the bathroom. 

"England!"

He opens the door to see England struggling with the near invisible zip of her dress.

Before his better judgement kicks in America moves, taking the zipper and giving it a good yank. The material resistsfor a moment before giving into america's superior strength. 

America struggles to keep his eyes from the slender expanse of back now revealed, smooth and pale and decorated with a constellation of light freckles. 

"You didn't rip it did you?" England asks, twisting to see her dress and America averts his eyes from the tantalising hint of underwear shown before England catches on and breaks his jaw.

"No" he turns striding towards the bedroom again. 

A few moments later England appears dressed in a soft grey tank top and the sleeping shorts she had been so enamoured with. 

"Okay bedtime," America instructs with all the authority he can muster. England mock salutes him before slipping beneath the covers and turning over. 

America waits for a moment before retreating to his own suite-handily next to hers. The special relationship has a few benefits. 

He has barely closed the door, glancing down at the tenting in his pants before the bang of patio doors being opened alerts him to the fact that England hasn't stayed in bed. 

Taking a deep sigh, America retraces his steps. Sure enough the bed is empty and the doors to the balcony were open.

England stood on tip toes staring up into the inky blackness, her eyes full of wonder.

"England..."

"It's so beautiful America. Don't you just want to spread your arms and just feel the sky on your skin. I could touch a star, I can feel it."

He does. He has been enamoured by the stars his whole life. He knows exactly how she feels. But right now England is drunk and her place is in bed. He wraps his arms around her, gently easing her fingers from the barrier surrounding the balcony. England wriggles, her ass coming into direct contact with his lap and America forces himself to count to ten.

England wriggles again in an attempt to get out of his hold, arching further over the barrier and America firms his grip. A fall from the balcony wouldn't kill an ancient nation like England but America doesn't particularly want to explain to humans how she survived should she fall. 

"England. Bed."

And fuck does context matter all of a sudden. Two words with multiple meanings. 

England relents, huffs mightily but extracts herself from america's arms. Once he's sure she's going to follow his directions he closed the doors, watching England clamber inelegantly into bed. She reminds him of Bambi, all legs and big, soft eyes tempered with alcohol. 

"You are no fun!" England grouses, " and I don't love you anymore!"

America flinches as if struck. England doesn't notice, too busy arranging herself in the covers. America swallows the lump in his throat, it was just as offhand comment, said playfully but it ricochets around inside if America and lands in a painful place. 

"I know."

Because he does. England hasn't told him she loves him since he was a colony and knowing she never will burns something especially when he sees her unmasked like this. Playful and gentle and unknowingly sexy. It's just more proof that he won't ever have more than scraps of affection. 

England doesn't sense the change in the mood. She simply yawns and snuggles down. 

"Night America."

Tomorrow England won't remember this, he looks down. He'll have to have a cold shower before he goes to sleep. 

He doesn't look back when he leaves.


End file.
